


Warm

by forthewidowsinparadise



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Ridiculously in Love, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 19:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthewidowsinparadise/pseuds/forthewidowsinparadise
Summary: “My love. My love.” Bram yawns, lovingly tracing his fingers along the stretch marks on Simon’s thighs, gifts from a growth spurt long ago. He hears his heartbeat reverberate in his diaphragm, and hums in harmony. “I so love it when you call me that.”~or~Simon sleeps over at Bram's and they snuggle in his twin sized bed.





	Warm

Bram has always loved when his mother worked late nights. He loves spending time with her, don’t get him wrong: it is important to them that the only son and the single parent have a strong rapport, and they do—they love each other’s company very much. Still, she _is_ his parent—the harbinger of responsibility—so ever since he was old enough to stay home alone, he anticipated the midnight labs and all-nighters at the clinic with excitement. He loved the freedom of having the house all to himself, even for half a night. 

Without his mom around, he could do his homework on the kitchen floor instead of at his desk, books covering the floor and The XX playing through the house. He finished slower that way, but he always had time to change source on the family television—which was seemingly stuck on TLC for the rest of eternity—and rewatch his 1967 _Spider Man_ DVDs. He loved quiet and music and cartoons his mother thinks he should have grown out of years ago; he would even go as far as to cancel plans with friends to get his fill. Ah, the young introverts dreamscape.

His home-alone whims haven’t changed all throughout high school, until one of these nights are not spent alone. With his mom on business in Atlanta for the weekend and Simon Spier reclining on Bram’s bed, scrolling through Instagram, he forgets all his old pleasures. They seem trivial in comparison, because here he is, excited for a pastime he’d never dared to imagine when he was twelve. This time, he’ll be spending his alone time with a _boy_. A boy who makes him laugh, a boy he can kiss for hours. His boyfriend, who had been over many nights before—for a movie, a make-out and maybe a little bit of extra love before his mom came home around three—but had never stayed the night. Until now.

“What ’cha looking at?” Bram’s mind comes back to, seeing that Simon is looking up from his phone, a smile bringing a sweet, soft light to his eyes. Bram, hands still buried in socks and boxer-briefs—rifling through the drawer for something comfortable—hadn’t even realized he had spaced out, but automatically smiled when he hears Simon’s voice. 

“Looking at you, you dummy.”

Of course he was looking at him, he’s beautiful.

Clad only in cotton boxers and a soft, faded t-shirt, Simon stretches out across Bram’s _Star Wars_ bedsheets like he’s only ever belonged there. His bare feet are buried under an old throw blanket, and his legs are short and husky but impossibly attractive. He’s propped up by a few pillows, and Bram can feel the sheen of love in his eyes as they share a glance. It’s a good thing his glasses act as a sheath, because Bram believes that one day he’ll die seeing that look in all its silver glory.

Simon scoots over, making some room on the twin sized mattress. He puts his hand behind his head to open his body up to Bram. “Well, stop looking and come here.” 

After slipping on a random pair of woolen socks, Bram gladly takes Simon’s outstretched hand and drops his knees onto the bed. Not a second later, Simon is pulling him in to a long, deep kiss. “Mmm.” He hums into it. It feels like comfort and familiarity and sips of herbal tea to settle his nerves. Since when did they shift? Since when did a nervous, horny teenage coaster ride become so simply warm? So romantic and so calm, kissing slowly as known bodies, through with the rush and content with the feeling. 

Bram is pulled into Simon’s orbit, his head spinning levelly—calm and slightly dizzying, like a vinyl wobbling on a cockeyed platter. If gently touching hands weren’t holding his waist, Simon’s tongue darting into his mouth would have made Bram lose all balance. He nearly drops his own body onto the bed, losing feeling to his fingertips—losing touch with reality as his body is covered in Simon’s hands. 

When they part, he still feels them everywhere, and the string between them is no less taut. Bram tugs it playfully, kissing Simon on the nose, then the eyebrow, then again on the lips. It’s then that he craves for his body to be impossibly closer, curling up next to Simon as to knot their bodies together with a scout’s determination. There is immediate happiness in the action. He lays his head on his stomach, turning his face into his t-shirt so Simon can run his fingers through his hair. Simon twists curls around his fingers, smoothing down the wispy strands at his hairline, and it is so, so quiet.

Simon hums _Jolene_ to fill up the spaces, and Bram’s heart constricts at the small swatch of flesh where his shirt has ridden up. He pushes it further up, pressing his fingers gently onto the pouch of softness just below his navel. Simon sings softly under his breath. _Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jo-lene. I’m beggin’ of you, please don’t take my man._

Bram’s hand follows a trail of light brown hair towards his waistband, then back up again, finding a perfect spot to give Simon a waggish little pinch. Simon stops singing and starts to laugh. “Hey!” Nipping Bram’s ear between his finger and thumb, he pulls a little for revenge. “No pinching the chub, mister.”

All of a sudden, Bram is too sleepy to speak in a proper voice. He hums contently, mumbling. “Mmm, you’re not chubby. You’re cute.”

“Don’t put a negative connotation on it, baby. I’ve embraced it.” Tutting, Simon smooths his thumb over Bram’s eyebrow. “Also, wasn’t it you who said that you love how soft I am to sleep on?”

“You got me there, Spier.” Bram yawns, beginning to slur a bit. “I love your body just the way it is.”

Simon pushes baby hairs back from his forehead. “And I love yours, sleepyhead.” There’s a smile in his voice, and it’s so evident it stamps right onto Bram’s face. “Want to get under the covers and go to sleep?”

“No.” Bram yawns, letting his hand start to wander again, ghosting over the fine, blonde hairs on Simon’s inner thigh. “Stay like this…just a little longer.”

Simon’s hand go back to Bram’s curls without question. “Alright, my love.”

“My love. My love.” Bram yawns, tracing his fingers along the stretch marks on Simon’s thighs, gifted from a growth spurt long ago. Purple like petals, maroon like stems and leaves in fall; grooves stretching up his skin like pale stalks of lavender, peeking out from a field of wheat. Bram closes his eyes, surveying the evidence that his boyfriend has grown from an infant, to a child, to a young man. To a man with a musical heartbeat that races whenever Bram presses an ear to his chest. He hears it reverberate in his diaphragm like a bass drum, and hums in harmony. “I so love it when you call me that.”

Living in that slurred-worded realm between wake and sleep, he sounds batty and lofty and submerged in love. Simon’s voice is hard to hear as he dives into the pool with him, making soft noises to lead him into sleep. “I love that you love it.” He says. “Because I love you.” 

Bram drifts off to sleep before he can say it back, but he knows Simon knows. Simon knows: Bram loves him with the magic of music, the endurance of history, and the passion of the legendary warrior. From ancient lovers, snug under a blanket of scholarly rebuttal, to Achilles and Patroclus, dissembled to the bone for the love sought in the marrow; their type of love will outlive disapproval. In sleep, it outlives all. In the waking world, Bram’s fluttering teenage heart can’t articulate it, but he loves him more and more each second he’s lying with him. 

And, when they wake up together in the morning, he knows he will feel just the same.


End file.
